Chapter 919 - 919: When the Dance Loses Its Grace

Cabello gets back to his feet almost immediately. The fatigue and pain have yet to fully catch up with him, but his mind is already beginning to fracture.

The commentators' words linger in his head. The talk about reading the future is absurd, and yet, the thought of Ryoma reading his mind returns, creeping back into his thoughts.

"He keeps reading me..."

"How...?"

"How the hell does he always know where I'm going?"

This time, the referee does not prolong the count. He stops at four, studies Cabello for a moment, and then steps back.

"Box!"

Cabello returns to the dancing rhythm of his Cuban Boxing, the very style he takes the most pride in, precisely because it is so difficult to read.

But the pride doesn't last. His mind is too occupied with one question: how does Ryoma keep catching him?

In a second, the distraction seeps into his movement. His rhythm becomes stiff, his upper body slightly swaying and rocking awkwardly.

The fluidity that once came naturally now looks forced. For the first time, Cabello no longer trusts his own Cuban Boxing.

Wanting to end the fight quickly, Ryoma closes the distance with two long steps before settling into an offensive peek-a-boo stance.

The sudden aggression makes the Tokyo Dome erupt.

"Come on, Ryoma!"

"Beat his ass!"

"Take the belt from him!"

Normally, an opponent charging forward like this would excite Cabello. It was exactly the kind of pressure he loved to toy with, like a matador teasing a charging bull.

But now, he panics, more like a cornered monkey facing a tiger.

"He's coming..."

Before Ryoma can attack, Cabello fires several jabs, but the tension in his legs gives away the panic underneath.

Zrff…

Zrff, zrff, zrff…

Zrff…

Zrff… Zrff…

Ryoma weaves through the punches, blocking, ducking, and slipping each one, all while studying Cabello's mental state.

Soon, he recognizes the change immediately; the panic, the stiffness, the growing lack of versatility.

Immediately, he reactivates the Vision Grid feature he had previously shut down.

"Activate trajectory feature."

Instantly, trajectory arrows reappear across Ryoma's vision, branching in different colors, with red marking the highest-probability path each punch is likely to take.

Ryoma reads ahead, slips beneath a punch and steps in, his right hand loading for a heavy hook.

Cabello suddenly moves to his right, escaping the line of Ryoma's right hand without any feint.

But Ryoma has already read the movement from the moment Cabello's body begins to tilt.

He follows the exit route easily and drives a quick left.

Cabello manages to cover his face just in time.

Dug.

But suddenly…

BAM!!!

A heavy hook crashes into the side of his body. Cabello folds around the impact, both legs wobbling beneath him.

"OH! THAT BODY SHOT!"

"LOOK AT CABELLO! HE CAN BARELY STAY UPRIGHT!"

Ryoma quickly slides his left foot wider before swinging a heavy left hook toward the jaw.

Cabello manages to react, tilting his posture to the left while lifting his right shoulder.

The hook crashes into his upper arm.

DUGH!

With his base already fragile, Cabello staggers sideways.

Ryoma immediately swings his right through the middle.

Again, Cabello raises a double guard.

DHUD!

He blocks the punch cleanly, but the impact drives him backward toward the ropes.

"He's in trouble again!"

"Cabello can't even get his feet under him!"

"And Ryoma is walking him straight to the ropes!"

From the red corner, Rivera slaps the apron, signaling the final ten seconds while barking his instructions.

"Calm down, Cabello! Protect your head and come back to me first!"

For once, Cabello obeys without hesitation. He tightens his guard and disappears behind a compact turtle shell.

"Look at that! Cabello has completely shelled up!"

"He doesn't even look like the same fighter anymore!"

Seeing how Cabello responds, Ryoma is forced to change tactics, attacking with greater calculation and methodical precision.

He steps in with a measured one-two into the guard, then widening his base slightly before whipping a lead hook downstairs.

Dug. Dug.

THUD!

Cabello absorbs it, keeping his guard tight.

Ryoma resets and fires three straight punches into the shell.

Dug. Dug. Dug.

And then he repeats the same left hook to the ribs, this time five hooks in rapid succession.

THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!

"FIVE HOOKS TO THE BODY!"

Cabello winces sharply. His right guard dips for a fraction of a second.

"RYOMA IS JUST HAMMERING THAT RIB CAGE!"

"CABELLO'S GUARD IS STARTING TO BREAK!"

Ryoma swings the sixth hook, this one heavier and aimed upstairs.

Cabello reacts in time, bringing his guard back into place.

DUGH!

And then he immediately fires a sharp left hook of his own.

Ryoma blocks it well, but Cabello quickly grabs his head and pulls it tightly against his chest, locking him down.

"He's grabbing Ryoma now!"

"He's doing everything he can just to survive!"

Ryoma keeps hammering the body.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

But it isn't enough to finish the job, and the bell rings first.

DING!

Ryoma holds his punch. Even then, Cabello keeps holding Ryoma's head and shoulder, leaning heavily against him.

For the first time, Ryoma feels that even this simple hold is beginning to weigh on him. His breathing grows heavier, and he has no intention of wasting more energy trying to break free.

The referee quickly steps in.

"Cabello! It's the bell!"

But Cabello still refuses to let go, still pushing Ryoma's head downward. Eventually, Ryoma snaps and wrenches Cabello's arm away from his head, before shoving Cabello toward the ropes.

"Get off me, you fucker!"

Ryoma raises his right hand, but the referee immediately steps between them before the situation can escalate.

The Tokyo Dome erupts again, thousands roaring as the two camps rush into the ring.

"Whoa! Things are getting heated in there!"

"The referee has to keep these two separated before this turns ugly!"

Even Nakahara and Sera quickly climb through the ropes as well, hurrying toward Ryoma before he loses his temper.

Still leaning against the ropes, Cabello forces out a chuckle, trying to hide the desperation underneath.

"You want my belt that badly, brat? Then try harder!"

Ryoma's chest heaves with anger, but Nakahara and Sera are already pulling him toward his corner. After the burst of aggression earlier, Ryoma can no longer resist them and reluctantly allows himself to be led away.

Across the ring, Rivera approaches Cabello, urging him back toward his corner. He reaches out to support the champion, assuming his legs are still badly compromised.

But Cabello immediately shoves him away.

"Leave me. I can walk just fine."

***

The Tokyo Dome remains restless even after the fighters disappear into their corners. An impatient fever spreads through the arena, the crowd still thrilled by Ryoma's relentless pressure in the final seconds of the seventh round.

The first commentator leans toward his microphone. "I have to say it now. This fight feels like it's slipping completely into Ryoma's hands."

The second commentator nods, his voice more measured. "Cabello has fought brilliantly, especially considering everything he's been through. But look at how this fight has developed since the sixth and seventh rounds. Ryoma has taken control, and honestly... I don't see how Cabello gets himself out of this."

Ironically, Ryoma looks anything but optimistic in the blue corner. His chest still rises and falls heavily, frustration simmering beneath his expression as Hiroshi and Sera tend to him.

Nakahara crouches in front of him and holds out a bottle of water.

"Easy, kid. Calm yourself down."

Ryoma takes the bottle and drinks, but even between swallows he has to pause and draw several deep breaths through his nose. This time, his lungs simply refuse to cooperate as easily.

"You've already taken control of this fight," Nakahara continues. "Don't throw that advantage away by letting your emotions drain what's left in your tank."

Nakahara gestures toward the bottle. "Drink. Breathe. Use every second of this break to recover. You don't need to prove anything right now. The fight is already in your hands."

After holding his annoyance in for a little longer, Ryoma finally speaks.

"My legs..." he says. "They're starting to get heavier."

The corner falls silent for a moment. Sera and Hiroshi freeze mid-motion, their hands hovering as they stare at Ryoma.

"Must be from those repeated exchanges to the body back in the sixth," Coach Murakami says.

"Yeah." Ryoma nods. "I tried to finish him just now. But that fucker's so stubborn. He even deliberately held me down and leaned his weight into me."

Nakahara quickly moves closer. "How long can you last?"

Ryoma gives a faint chuckle. "I can make it to the final bell. I'm just worried about my performance after this. And Cabello... I'm fucking sure now. He's juiced."

His gaze slowly lifts toward the opposite corner, sharpening as his jaw tightens with growing resentment.

At the same moment, Ryoma catches Rivera and Cabello glancing toward him, both wearing knowing smiles.

As they are having conversation, Ryoma reads their lips and the Vision Grid renders their voices clearly inside his head.

<< ...Now you understand why he's frustrated? He always fights according to calculation. And by his calculation, the end of the seventh round was his best chance to win. And he threw it away. >>

<< So he's finally getting worn down? >>

<< Of course. So forget the mind games. Forget the fancy shit. Go straight at him. Keep the pressure on, keep your hands working, and don't give that brat a second to breathe. >>